signboard in Thekkady, Kerala:
IMPATIENT ON ROAD
PATIENT IN HOSPITAL.
IMPATIENT ON ROAD
PATIENT IN HOSPITAL.
Sunday 30 December 2007
Monday 17 December 2007
Twilight
The light begins to fade
And darkness begins to fill in.
The Sun begins to sink
As the stars begin to appear.
Here begins the end of Day
And beginning of Night.
As Day bids farewell
And Night makes her entry,
The twinkling stars accompany her
With a silent lullaby.
And tomorrow becomes today
And darkness begins to fill in.
The Sun begins to sink
As the stars begin to appear.
Here begins the end of Day
And beginning of Night.
As Day bids farewell
And Night makes her entry,
The twinkling stars accompany her
With a silent lullaby.
And tomorrow becomes today
Monday 3 December 2007
The Gift
It was her 10th birthday. Her parents had arranged for a nice Birthday Party. The event witnessed a fair amount of guests. The girl was extremely pleased by this fact, as her greedy eyes wandered to the constantly mounting pile of gifts. However, one particular red box caught her attention. It was neatly packed with an attractive red wrapper. Her expectations rose like the mercury in Mercury.
Her imagination began to run wild, like the wild boars of India. She imagined that the box contained a huge key that would show her the door to conquer the world. Or would it contain a box of Dark Chocolates that would grant her immortality? A comic book that would automatically transfer the knowledge that the world possessed? A hair dryer that would make her IQ multiply manifold? She was beginning to get restless... Her curiosity to know what she was in possession of, rose like the mercury in the Sun. Now the wild boar had transformed into a wild, mad elephant.
The guests started to take leave in a couple of hours. Her excitement was rising (now, like the mercury in Betelguese). She felt she was getting closer to her conquest or immortality or knowledge or intelligence or whatever divine thing that box contained... It seemed like an Indiana Jones movie. It had become a quest to seek the answers to all her expectations.
Finally, her parents gave her the green signal to open the gifts. She ran towards the red box, grabbed it and tore open the red wrapper and cardboard box... Her heart was pounding wildly (like the elephant) and she thought others could hear it too. Suddenly, it seemed like the world had come to a standstill. The excitement had now taken the form of raw shock. She realised, that she was now, the owner of a pair of gray, oversized bermudas.
The benefactor of those bermudas clearly, had expected the girl to have 'grown up'. Hence the oversizedness
Her imagination began to run wild, like the wild boars of India. She imagined that the box contained a huge key that would show her the door to conquer the world. Or would it contain a box of Dark Chocolates that would grant her immortality? A comic book that would automatically transfer the knowledge that the world possessed? A hair dryer that would make her IQ multiply manifold? She was beginning to get restless... Her curiosity to know what she was in possession of, rose like the mercury in the Sun. Now the wild boar had transformed into a wild, mad elephant.
The guests started to take leave in a couple of hours. Her excitement was rising (now, like the mercury in Betelguese). She felt she was getting closer to her conquest or immortality or knowledge or intelligence or whatever divine thing that box contained... It seemed like an Indiana Jones movie. It had become a quest to seek the answers to all her expectations.
Finally, her parents gave her the green signal to open the gifts. She ran towards the red box, grabbed it and tore open the red wrapper and cardboard box... Her heart was pounding wildly (like the elephant) and she thought others could hear it too. Suddenly, it seemed like the world had come to a standstill. The excitement had now taken the form of raw shock. She realised, that she was now, the owner of a pair of gray, oversized bermudas.
The benefactor of those bermudas clearly, had expected the girl to have 'grown up'. Hence the oversizedness
Saturday 1 December 2007
The Firefly Story
The stone was cold. The sky was black and the mood-weird...
My level of endurance to fight sleep was reaching its threshold level. However, it was impossible to fall asleep in a place where people were cracking the worst jokes in the Universe(believe me! I certify them!), where the ground was hard and which was also the residence to a zillion mosquitoes.
It was then that I saw them. A bunch of them hovering in the cold and harsh autumn air-FIREFLIES! Contrary to the weather, they filled me with hope and joy. They did, however, seem a little weird. Since I was at my sleepy best, my power of observation was highly questionable. So, I really did not persist on trying to find out the peculiarity of this observation.
I was extremely fascinated by them; awed by their refulgence, their ability to produce their own light. To me, it felt like independence.
I was forced to draw an analogy with happiness. Happiness is right there...within you. You just need to realise it. And spread it like the firefly's light...
"If only I could be like one of them!", I exclaimed. Suddenly I heard someone ask me,"Why on earth do you want to be like an aeroplane??"
I say it's all a matter of perspective...
My level of endurance to fight sleep was reaching its threshold level. However, it was impossible to fall asleep in a place where people were cracking the worst jokes in the Universe(believe me! I certify them!), where the ground was hard and which was also the residence to a zillion mosquitoes.
It was then that I saw them. A bunch of them hovering in the cold and harsh autumn air-FIREFLIES! Contrary to the weather, they filled me with hope and joy. They did, however, seem a little weird. Since I was at my sleepy best, my power of observation was highly questionable. So, I really did not persist on trying to find out the peculiarity of this observation.
I was extremely fascinated by them; awed by their refulgence, their ability to produce their own light. To me, it felt like independence.
I was forced to draw an analogy with happiness. Happiness is right there...within you. You just need to realise it. And spread it like the firefly's light...
"If only I could be like one of them!", I exclaimed. Suddenly I heard someone ask me,"Why on earth do you want to be like an aeroplane??"
I say it's all a matter of perspective...
Friday 30 November 2007
By The Wave
The beautiful white foam
And the mystic blue depths,
Never fail to enchant,
A single sentient soul.
The mystic blue ocean,
Those unfathomable depths,
Speak of great stories
That have enriched creation.
The rebellious white waves,
Young and ambitious,
Stretch out from the ocean,
To try and make a change.
The ocean beckons you
To learn from experiences.
The waves reach for you
To create new ones...
And the mystic blue depths,
Never fail to enchant,
A single sentient soul.
The mystic blue ocean,
Those unfathomable depths,
Speak of great stories
That have enriched creation.
The rebellious white waves,
Young and ambitious,
Stretch out from the ocean,
To try and make a change.
The ocean beckons you
To learn from experiences.
The waves reach for you
To create new ones...
Saturday 24 November 2007
The Pair of Hands
As I opened my eyes,
Filled with curiosity,
A pair of hands
Appeared
And welcomed me.
As I struggled to proceed,
Filled with trepidation,
The pair of hands
Held
And supported me.
As I made all those mistakes,
Filled with arrogance,
The pair of hands
Stopped
And warned me.
As I hung my head,
Filled with shame,
The pair of hands
Wiped my tears
And consoled me.
As I sleep,
Filled with contentment and completion,
The pair of hands
Bless me
And will always continue to...
Filled with curiosity,
A pair of hands
Appeared
And welcomed me.
As I struggled to proceed,
Filled with trepidation,
The pair of hands
Held
And supported me.
As I made all those mistakes,
Filled with arrogance,
The pair of hands
Stopped
And warned me.
As I hung my head,
Filled with shame,
The pair of hands
Wiped my tears
And consoled me.
As I sleep,
Filled with contentment and completion,
The pair of hands
Bless me
And will always continue to...
Saturday 13 October 2007
The Pitch Called Life
I am Mynameistoolongsopleaseignoreit, a messenger of the ForeFathers. Not so recently, I was given a supposedly important mission- Mission RYFF (Remembering Your ForeFathers). News had reached the Publicity Chapter of the ForeFathers Council that they were losing importance among the Earthlings and their position was being substituted by Cricketers (Cricketers are humans who play the game of Cricket. I thought it was the name of a famous Entomologist after whom the insect was named. Clearly, my knowledge of both, the Game and entomology is pathetic). So, my British counterpart, Charleshenryphillipwilliam decided to help me. After all, Cricket was invented in his Land. He tried to teach me the Game, in vain....
I was sent to India to accomplish the mission. The Game is so finely woven in these people's lives that Cricketeducationally-challenged people (like me) would find the place (and the mission) a challenge. "Gulp! What if i got demoted to junior-assistant messenger, or something like that?!", I feared.
Once while walking down Twenty20 Road, I noticed a man discussing with another that, the first ODI was a day and night 'Match'. In my land, ODI stands for Obeisance Directing Instruments, which is a department under the Postal Network. Obviously it would be a day and night affair, considering the number of lightyears that had to be covered to deliver the 'Obeisances' (We cater to other galaxies, as well.) After a month, I was informed that ODI was the abbreviation for a One Day International. I still do not know what that means, except that majority of the players would be wearing the same coloured costumes. The opponents would be clad in another colour with extra-fittings, that made them look unEarthly.
Two expressionless men will always be there on the field. Occassionally, they would make funny gesticulations, which made up for their serious deficiency in facial expressions. Later, I was told that these men are not as unemployed as they may seem. In fact, they are one of the most important factors that decide the fate of the 'Match'.
Apart from ODIs, these Cricketers also have something called as a Test Match. I do not know how it got it's name, but I know for sure that it truly is a test, a Test that tests the Umpires' abilities to err..test the fate of the Game! God alone knows how one identifies the Team that 'bats' and the Team that 'bowls' (Aha! Two new words added to my vocabulary!)Everyone wears the same white clothes! The only possible difference is that the Team which 'bats' wears those extra-fittings called, Helmets (the third word in my Cricket vocabulary).
"It is difficult to live here without knowing the Game. The Game is analogous to the lives of the people, here. The PITCH has rough patches, just like the bad moments in one's life. Life has many surprises, like a bowler's googly. An intended Yorker could end up being a 'full-toss' ball which can cost the bowler badly! Just like certain decisions in life, that can totally change a person's life. If you know how to 'time' the delivery of the ball and 'place' it well while batting, then you can do wonders with your score. Similarly, if you know how to time particular activities and how to react to certain situations in life, it can be made into a bed of roses", drawled a cricket fan. "Your ForeFathers are as important as Cricket. They give you a very important value called EXPERIENCE!", I retorted.
My stay had been long and futile. I was beginning to miss Grandfather Clock...
In order to lift my spirits, the fans took me to a movie called Lagaan. I realised that even the ForeFathers played the Game! I was also introduced to some Cricketing Celebrities (as they were called). I held a meeting with them in order to highlight my mission and the problems I faced. They agreed to 'endorse' my campaign in order to provide it publicity. The day for striking the contract was chosen as 31st September (no specific reason behind selecting this date).
Also, it was decided that 31st September would henceforth be International ForeFathers' Day. Thanks to the 'Council For Having A Special Day, Everyday', whose Chairperson's movie ticket I paid for.
It was time to go back. Mission Accomplished!! No more of the Game. I heaved a sigh of relief....
Oh no! Charleshenryphillipwilliam is playing Cricket with the ForeFathers' Council Members! Looks like I am destined to be haunted by the Game..... Wait a minute! I have been fooled! There is no such day as 31st September! Remember September's sacrifice to August?
I was sent to India to accomplish the mission. The Game is so finely woven in these people's lives that Cricketeducationally-challenged people (like me) would find the place (and the mission) a challenge. "Gulp! What if i got demoted to junior-assistant messenger, or something like that?!", I feared.
Once while walking down Twenty20 Road, I noticed a man discussing with another that, the first ODI was a day and night 'Match'. In my land, ODI stands for Obeisance Directing Instruments, which is a department under the Postal Network. Obviously it would be a day and night affair, considering the number of lightyears that had to be covered to deliver the 'Obeisances' (We cater to other galaxies, as well.) After a month, I was informed that ODI was the abbreviation for a One Day International. I still do not know what that means, except that majority of the players would be wearing the same coloured costumes. The opponents would be clad in another colour with extra-fittings, that made them look unEarthly.
Two expressionless men will always be there on the field. Occassionally, they would make funny gesticulations, which made up for their serious deficiency in facial expressions. Later, I was told that these men are not as unemployed as they may seem. In fact, they are one of the most important factors that decide the fate of the 'Match'.
Apart from ODIs, these Cricketers also have something called as a Test Match. I do not know how it got it's name, but I know for sure that it truly is a test, a Test that tests the Umpires' abilities to err..test the fate of the Game! God alone knows how one identifies the Team that 'bats' and the Team that 'bowls' (Aha! Two new words added to my vocabulary!)Everyone wears the same white clothes! The only possible difference is that the Team which 'bats' wears those extra-fittings called, Helmets (the third word in my Cricket vocabulary).
"It is difficult to live here without knowing the Game. The Game is analogous to the lives of the people, here. The PITCH has rough patches, just like the bad moments in one's life. Life has many surprises, like a bowler's googly. An intended Yorker could end up being a 'full-toss' ball which can cost the bowler badly! Just like certain decisions in life, that can totally change a person's life. If you know how to 'time' the delivery of the ball and 'place' it well while batting, then you can do wonders with your score. Similarly, if you know how to time particular activities and how to react to certain situations in life, it can be made into a bed of roses", drawled a cricket fan. "Your ForeFathers are as important as Cricket. They give you a very important value called EXPERIENCE!", I retorted.
My stay had been long and futile. I was beginning to miss Grandfather Clock...
In order to lift my spirits, the fans took me to a movie called Lagaan. I realised that even the ForeFathers played the Game! I was also introduced to some Cricketing Celebrities (as they were called). I held a meeting with them in order to highlight my mission and the problems I faced. They agreed to 'endorse' my campaign in order to provide it publicity. The day for striking the contract was chosen as 31st September (no specific reason behind selecting this date).
Also, it was decided that 31st September would henceforth be International ForeFathers' Day. Thanks to the 'Council For Having A Special Day, Everyday', whose Chairperson's movie ticket I paid for.
It was time to go back. Mission Accomplished!! No more of the Game. I heaved a sigh of relief....
Oh no! Charleshenryphillipwilliam is playing Cricket with the ForeFathers' Council Members! Looks like I am destined to be haunted by the Game..... Wait a minute! I have been fooled! There is no such day as 31st September! Remember September's sacrifice to August?
Thursday 11 October 2007
The New School
The girl seemed hidden by her parents. However, it was difficult to ignore her, considering her level of excitement . It was a new place, new culture, new people and a new school. She would have to start all over again... Move into a new house, meet new people, make new friends and join a new school. She had been through this over and over again that, the word 'new' seemed extremely harrowed and... shall we say, old?(Err...being an eight year old kid, the word 'oxymoron' was obviously not a part of her vocabulary, ergo we shall not use it)
Trepidation seemed to engulf her. The building looked intimidating. Her 'experience' made her come to one conclusion- Most school buildings are intimidating ('Most' being used in order to make the statement logically valid. Though in reality, that is not the case-a shorter word called 'All' is used). As she waited outside the Principal's office, she was forced to compare it to a room that housed an Electric Chair (I still have my doubts as to whether Electric Chairs existed then. But I am still using it because it adds spice to the writing....hopefully). Also, since our protagonist was ignorant about the existence of Matilda then, she could not think of Mrs.Turnbull and the cupboard (No wonder she did not suffer from a nervous breakdown).
Suddenly, her eyes widened...her name had been called out! (Mispronounced, as usual) She had the horrible feeling that one has when, the elevator suddenly stops. Simply put, she felt she had left her digestive system on the first floor when she was actually on the ground floor.(the school did not have an elevator. So, it really does not matter)
The next moment, she was sitting on a cushioned chair, sandwiched by her parents, in a lavishly furnished room. It took her a while to realise the existence of another human in the room- 'The Principal'.He looked tolerable. She tried to say hello but her larynx failed to function! Hence she only managed to mouth a hello.
He glanced through the application form that her parents had filled. Her parents and 'The Principal' started chatting and she was ignored for a comfortable five minutes. He finally looked at her through those reading glasses of his.
She then realised that the attention was back on her. Her heart started pounding against her chest. She feared that the others could hear it too, just like that unintentional gulp, a paragraph ago...
"So, what is your mother tongue?", he asked in a deep commanding voice. By now, she had lost control of her heart. It was pounding so frantically that she almost turned deaf. Peculiarly, instead of NOT hearing stuff, she heard EXTRA stuff which was something like- "What is the colour of your mother's tongue?"
"What an interesting question to ask?!", she thought. Maybe it had something to do with Biology. She was quite sure that she had heard it wrong but was too scared to ask him to repeat the question. She cleared her throat, checked if her larynx was working(it was) and finally said in the softest voice possible (good technique)- "Pink."(aren't all human tongues pink in colour?)
As she finished with the 'k' sound of 'Pink', she realised that the other three humans (that stupid spider that was trying to weave a web but failing miserably, has been deliberately ignored ) gave her equally bewildered looks. It was then that she realised what the equally interesting yet original question was.....
..you just finished reading her first post.
Trepidation seemed to engulf her. The building looked intimidating. Her 'experience' made her come to one conclusion- Most school buildings are intimidating ('Most' being used in order to make the statement logically valid. Though in reality, that is not the case-a shorter word called 'All' is used). As she waited outside the Principal's office, she was forced to compare it to a room that housed an Electric Chair (I still have my doubts as to whether Electric Chairs existed then. But I am still using it because it adds spice to the writing....hopefully). Also, since our protagonist was ignorant about the existence of Matilda then, she could not think of Mrs.Turnbull and the cupboard (No wonder she did not suffer from a nervous breakdown).
Suddenly, her eyes widened...her name had been called out! (Mispronounced, as usual) She had the horrible feeling that one has when, the elevator suddenly stops. Simply put, she felt she had left her digestive system on the first floor when she was actually on the ground floor.(the school did not have an elevator. So, it really does not matter)
The next moment, she was sitting on a cushioned chair, sandwiched by her parents, in a lavishly furnished room. It took her a while to realise the existence of another human in the room- 'The Principal'.He looked tolerable. She tried to say hello but her larynx failed to function! Hence she only managed to mouth a hello.
He glanced through the application form that her parents had filled. Her parents and 'The Principal' started chatting and she was ignored for a comfortable five minutes. He finally looked at her through those reading glasses of his.
She then realised that the attention was back on her. Her heart started pounding against her chest. She feared that the others could hear it too, just like that unintentional gulp, a paragraph ago...
"So, what is your mother tongue?", he asked in a deep commanding voice. By now, she had lost control of her heart. It was pounding so frantically that she almost turned deaf. Peculiarly, instead of NOT hearing stuff, she heard EXTRA stuff which was something like- "What is the colour of your mother's tongue?"
"What an interesting question to ask?!", she thought. Maybe it had something to do with Biology. She was quite sure that she had heard it wrong but was too scared to ask him to repeat the question. She cleared her throat, checked if her larynx was working(it was) and finally said in the softest voice possible (good technique)- "Pink."(aren't all human tongues pink in colour?)
As she finished with the 'k' sound of 'Pink', she realised that the other three humans (that stupid spider that was trying to weave a web but failing miserably, has been deliberately ignored ) gave her equally bewildered looks. It was then that she realised what the equally interesting yet original question was.....
..you just finished reading her first post.
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